Acquire a Squire; Art by Ni70 (Patreon)

Lauré rolled her eyes as yet another stogy, self centered, Courtian Knight attempted to impress her. She tried to be polite given the circumstances, but this was getting out of hand. It was always the same.

“Well, hello m’lady.” they would all begin. Then they’d make the same joke about her being down off the mountain, before commenting on the sigil she wore, identifying her as a Knight of House Dalen. They would then of course ask her name, which she would give, and then they’d try to dazel her by telling her it’s meaning.

“Yes, I know what my name means. It means ‘winner’.” She thought. She also knew that her name wasn’t Pandorican in origin, and certainly not Wakokujin like her parents. She’d been named after a Courtian Champion who had played paramor for both of her parents in their youth. She was named in remembrance of her; a brave, intelligent, warrior who died protecting her parents. A true champion like Lauré wished to be.

Nothing like the blubbering knights that were approaching her. Snobbish pratts with noble blood. Many were handsome enough, til they opened their mouths. Most of the knights she had found to be attractive or interesting, and weren’t utterly insufferable, were busy at their task; evaluating cadets for a squiriship. Lauré should be doing the same. It was after all why her Lord had sent her to Leonardt Academy, but so far she’d been unable to escape her popularity. Though Pandorican’s were a common sight in Bast, Lioncourt’s capital and the seat of the King, a Pandorican Knight sworn to a Courtian House, well... that got people interested.

“Listen,” she began.

“Sir Canon was it?” she asked politely. The dark hair lion smiled and ran hand through his thick hair.

“That’s Canaan, m’lady.” he corrected.

“I’m sure it is...” Lauré could not contain her lack of enthusiasm.

“Anyway, having to listen to you talk is like being drowned slowly in sour bread dough. Though you are handsome and well bred, you are about as pleasant as a gut wound, and I beg my leave of you.” Lauré stated simply. Her words were so casual and polite, that the Courtian Knight couldn’t quite believe his ears.

“Uh... okay, good bye then?” he managed to get out. Lauré bowed and walked away ignoring the bitter words uttered underneath the Knights breath. ‘Uncouth backwater bumpkin’. That was a good one. She hadn’t heard that one yet today.

It had gone that way for the better part of the morning. A knight, either male or female would be interested in her. Either for her looks, her story, or the opportunity to challenge a Pandorican Blade Dancer in a duel. Some dueled her for the insult of her not recognizing what an honor it was to have the attention of the son or daughter of Lord Tittlyfuck of Cuntington, or wherever the hell they grow pretentious twats like them.

“I swear, I’ve been in more ‘provings’ today than the students.” she bemoaned. Everyone wanted a piece of her. Everyone that was except the cadets. She’d approached a great many of the names in the roster book. Though most were interested in her in theory, in practice, no one wanted to serve under a Border Knight who barely had a Knight’s Record. Sure she was pretty to look at or to spar with, but none of the little lordlings wanted to apprentice under a ‘Backwater Knight’. Even one as obviously exceptional as she.

Sighing the pretty wah ran her hand through her pumpkin hair and sighed.

“I never get the attention I want...” lamented the Border Knight. Back home in Pandorica, she’d never realized how attractive she seemed to others. She was average by her people’s standards. She hadn’t really believed her parents when they warned her of the dangers and trials red panda’s faced down off the mountain. From her perspective, the Courtian species all had things that made them visually appealing. No more than her own people. Lions of course, usually have a very majestic and powerful look to them. Lioncourt was lousy with them in all shapes and sizes, but as a diverse Kingdom with many different species, there were plenty of others to choose from.

Here in the Academy she’d seen lions, tigers, bears, and even hyenas. She’d heard the latter were more common in the lower half of the Central Dominance of Lioncourt. She’d even seen a couple of the traditionally Dalish species, the kinlings native to Evandale. There were one or two jerboa’s about. And she’d spoken with a female leopard who’d been beautiful and interesting, but wished to squire under a knight of her own House. Caracals and servals were most common in the Dales, though her lord happened to be a Jerboa. She’d only seen one of them, a fairly handsome young male with fiery red hair, morning blue eyes, and a rather sad air about him.

She’d observed him once or twice making her way through the Promenade. He’d been approached by several knights who’d seemed excited to speak with him. His demeanor would change and he’d seem alert and interested. But she’d noticed he’d rejected more people that day than she had. When his betters would leave he’d go back to looking blank, almost uninterested. He looked mournful and upset. Not obviously, but when you’re raised in Pandorica, you get good at reading body language. He kind of looked like a wild animal stuck in a cage. Sad about his predicament, but not particularly putting any effort into escaping. Though he did seem to jerk his head to read the sigils pinned to each knight. Perhaps he was waiting for something or someone specific?

Normally, a squire would be happy to have all the attention he was getting. Some very expensive looking knights had shown interest in him, but he’d declined those almost immediately. There were two or three other Border Knights in attendance and they’d seemed to have the most interest in the boy. He seemed happiest speaking with them, probably because they were all Dalish, but they didn’t seem all that interested in mentoring him. If she didn’t know any better, she’d say they were paying their respects. Those curt nods, were lower than normal. Dalish didn’t normally bow, not unless you bested them, but they did have some minor social tells when they respected someone. It actually manifested in a more casual familiar way of addressing them. Almost like Pandoricans.

Though many who adored, or rather, fetishized the Pandorican culture would be offended by the comparison; Lauré felt it was an apt one. Dalish had a hodgepodge of familiar traits. They had a strict code of etiquette, like Wakokujin. But the Code of Iron was more of a code of conduct and applied to one's moral character and how to live ‘fiercely’. An honor code of sorts, but not so stiff and structured as the Wakokujin traditionalists. They were friendly and personable as many Pandorican, just not as openly affectionate.

“Though not unreceptive...” The thought brought a smile to her face.

Like the Bharati red pandas, Dalish were always concerned with protecting them and there’s, and like the Huxia they had a love of artistry, poetry, and architecture. A part of their society that most knew little of. Many outside of the Dales saw them as violent, uncouth, yokels; trained from birth to know little else but how to fight and die on the Borders. It was so far from the truth it was insulting, but a stereotype she suspected that was perpetuated by the nobility, especially the Aslanians.

The white lions had always had an axe to grind with the denizens of the Dales. The Archdukes of Aslan had always been bitter about the freedoms and privileges the crown afforded the Dalishkin. They often didn’t recognize any authority other than their own, and the Crown was more than happy to leave them be, keeping the border safe. But Evandale was still technically a Duchy of the Aslanian Province. The fact that Archduke Kerion Aslan could not command a vassal state he technically controlled had to be infuriating. It was no secret that he held known love for Duke Palence Valenrow of Evandale. House Valenrow represented the favor and privilege the Crown showed the Dalish for being defenders of the borderlands.

Just then Lauré blinked. Her eyes focused on the melancholic boy across the way. She knew she’d recognized him, but couldn’t figure out why. Quickly opening her book she went through the pages looking for the Houses of each Candidate eligible for squireship.

“Well I’ll be damned...” she said her finger tracing down the page. Right there, near the end of the section on Houses was the Sigil of House Valenrow, one candidate; Count Adolyn Valenrow.

“Yabai! That’s the Duke’s son.” she gasped in surprise.

Lauré could not help but stare a bit dumbfounded at the young caracal. Like many Dalish, she’d heard the stories about him. The boy was said to be a powerful adept, skilled at mancery, quintistry, and a bit of magic. Rumors abound about how instead of being properly instructed at a Magus Librarium, Adolyn’s mother, Elania, stole the boy away to Leveria to be trained by the Harimali Striders that trained her. Lauré had seen the so-called ‘Death Dealer’ in action. If her son was even half as talented, it would be a coup for House Dalen to be responsible for his squiriship.

“Let’s see how far that Courtian obsession with Pandorican’s stretches.” thought Lauré standing up.

“You look a little lonely on the dance floor...” the beautiful wah said as a way of a greeting. Adolyn looked up, unstartled, but still looking somewhat surprised.

“Not a great dancer I’m afraid. I’m told I lack rhythm.” He replied with a smile. Lauré grinned thinking ‘witty’, as she extended a hand to him.

The young caracal reached out and took her hand, grabbing it at the wrist. With it, he pulled himself up and into the traditional greeting of the Dalish; clasping her wrist before giving a near imperceptible nod. This nod was down, rather than up, so it was a sign of respect for an elder or teacher. Rather than a nod upward which was customary for strangers.

“Count Adolyn, it’s a pleasure to meet you. I’d been hoping to see the famous wunderkin in action. What’s the matter, not feeling up to any bouts?” She asked curiously. Adolyn shook his head.

“Nothing like that. The other students think facing me in a proving would not look good to a potential Knight’s Master.” he stated simply. Cocking her head to the side Lauré let her tail sweep around her and brush up against the cadet. It was a playful gesture, meant to show personability between herself and another. For his part, Adolyn recognized this and gently pet her tail.

“Aww... so you’re saying they don’t want a second year making them look bad.” teased the Border Knight. The boy's shoulders lifted and fell nonchalantly.

“Who is to say. If so, I do not blame them. This is an important day for most.”

Adolyn’s words were not lost on Lauré.

“For most... but not you, huh?” she thought. Unconsciously her tail wrapped about the boy as she moved forward casually, her hands softly caressing her chin.

“I guess that means you need someone to help you make a good showing, right?” she asked. Adolyn continued to gently caress her tail, something that felt good, like he’d had practice at it. She tried not to let her tail dance and flutter. No sense in getting all excited about a little casual contact, though it had been a while since someone had touched her in this way. Courtian’s tended to either be prudish by Pandorican standards, or woefully forward. Not a lot of subtlety in Lioncourt; but Adolyn seemed to have experience. Perhaps he had some knowledge of her people's customs. If so, she could work with that.

Thinking on it a little too carefully, Lauré had been surprised when Adolyn asked simply;

“Is that necessary? I mean, you’re looking for a squire from one of the highborn houses. It’s the only reason Baron Dalen would send one of his knights all the way to the capital. If you’re willing, I think it’d be interesting to study under one such as yourself.” Pausing Lauré looked the young boy right in his eyes, her smile turning a bit predatory.

“And what makes you think you’ve got what it takes to be my squire, little lordling.” she teased. Adolyn said nothing, he simply looked down at her tail that now hugged against him more firmly, encircling him. Lauré hadn’t noticed she’d done so. His fingers had just felt so good tracing circles through her dense fur. Looking around, she noticed others had noticed, and she quickly pulled her tell away. Adolyn grinned then. Nothing smug. He looked boyish and friendly.

“Nothing I guess, you just seemed interested.” he beamed.

Rolling her eyes, Lauré turned and signaled the cadet to follow her. She thought about quipping that she was just friendly, but the red panda was sure a clever boy like him would have a retort for that. Instead she simply asked;

“And why are you interested?” The red-headed youth did not answer for a long moment. For a few steps she couldn’t even hear him breath. As she reached the clearing where cadets dueled, she nodded to the mediator and he began to signal the other students to vacate. For a long time, Adolyn did not answer. In the time it took for the boy to formulate a reasonable response, Lauré had had time to look through the dueling swords, fine one to her liking and test it out a bit. Eventually the boy simply responded with;

“I’d like to go, I’m not too particular on where and how. Just away is good enough.”

Lauré couldn’t say she wasn’t disappointed in the answer, but she didn’t let it show.

“So, any old mentor would do?” she asked incredulously, having seen him reject quite a few.

“House Knights tend to like to hang around places I’d rather not be. But you’re a Knight-errant are you not? You’ll be travelling about spreading good will and the name of your Lord.” he continued. Lauré did not wait for him to shift from conversation to combat, she simply reached out with her soul body and anchored herself to Adolyn’s. The invisible tether of aethereal energy seemed to go unnoticed as Lauré pulled upon it, launching herself forward at high speed.

To his credit, Adolyn did not miss a beat. With what seemed to be a casual flick of the wrist, he produced a blade that she’d seen strapped to the back of his belt. It was of course a dueling blade. She could feel from the impact that neither weapon was sharp, but she knew if anything landed, there would definitely be damage.

The young bear cat effortlessly flowed into her first form; ‘Dance of the Fire Lotus’. Being of mixed Pandorican heritage, Lauré had been taught the blade dancers arte from her Kheyeran mother and kenjutsu from her Wakokujin father. Dance of the Fire Lotus, was a style that incorporated the flowing movement of the Dance of the Lotus Tree, and the tenants of Zanka no tachi-ryū. One of the more obscure schools of kenjutsu in Pandorica. A longsword style that relied heavily on the wielder's ability to manipulate their own quintessence to harness their inner fire. Though her father was proficient at it, he had been a better teacher than a practitioner.

Usually, the two schools of fighting were anathema to each other. Bushi often decried Blade Dancers as being ovelry wasteful with stamina and movements. Lauré had married the two into her own discipline that made use of the strengths and weaknesses of both. Unlike a blade dancer who by design did not often get caught up in long exchanges in battles, preferring to zip around the battlefield, attacking at all angles; Lauré was perfectly capable of sustaining attacks without use of her traditional dances.

Anchoring herself to others around her, the red panda pulled on the gossamer threads of energy she’d connected, pulling tightly and strengthening the bond. She blinked to the side and spun around, bringing herself to Adolyn’s back. When she struck, she met resistance, a barrier of wind. It only delayed her momentarily and gave the cadet a moment to meet her charge. The two clashed blades vigorously.

As she had suspected, Adolyn was wonderful. From someone who had trained in two very different sword disciplines, she recognized that what was on the surface, a graceless approximation of skills, was in actuality the subtle application of many disciplines. Lauré was certain the lordling hadn’t learned any of that in the Academy. She decided that maybe she wanted to see how deep his education went.

She surprised the boy by moving into his guard and parrying a lazy thrust with more power than should be normal from the slight flick of her wrist. She saw a small bit of surprise on his face, so she pursed her lips, shooting him a kiss. Before the boy could recover she ignited her soul body calling upon her inner energies to imbue herself with the ‘remnant flame’.  She then reached out with her quintessence and poured her will into her sword.

“Burn!” she commanded. The sword obeyed.

Her reflexes, movement speed, and strength increased. Where Adolyn had before been able to effortlessly keep up, a feat for anyone against a blade dancer, he now struggled to meet her pace. She flew around him striking with speed and precision. Each swing of her sword sent waves of fire that crashed around the proving grounds, kicking up debris and burning. For the first time she saw the barrier around the arena. She noted the very stern disapproving looks of the Clerics who reinforced the magic protecting the spectators from the combatants. She was happy they were diligent, she meant to put a little more effort in the cadet’s evaluation.

Adolyn, for his part, began to counter with his own use of Aethereal Artes. He’d given himself wind to move and dodge her attacks. Anchored to his soul body, she could feel that he’d infused his own quintessence with lightning, increasing his reflexes. He was using a combination of quintistry and mancery, both of which he’d done subtly, but Lauré could see and feel the effort. The caracal no longer looked quite so unbothered. He was breathing heavily, in through his mouth, out through his nose.

“Oh... you’re just full of surprises.” she teased.

“Most people like surprises, ma’am. Keeps things lively.” he replied readying himself.

In a move that surprised Lauré, Adolyn then attacked. Up till then, he’d intentionally let her come to him. He would gauge her attack and then countered her in some way. This time however, he wasn’t content to be lead. She could feel the wind kick up as he burst forward. Aeromancy at it’s finest. Anchored to other spectators around her, Lauré simply pulled herself out of harm’s way, but Adolyn changed course almost instantly in pursuit. She was forced to parry and block as he met her in flight.

The two traded blows. Adolyn used his mancery and quintistry to match Lauré’s abilities. The longer they fought, the more Adolyn was able to press in elemental advantage. Though he hadn’t channelled the wind into his blade, each of his swings were accompanied by the element. It took Lauré a painfully long time to realize that his wind was stealing the ferocity of her flames. Every time their blades met, a bit of her fire was consumed. Furrowing her brow, she wondered how he was managing it. She’d fought aeromancers and wind elementals before, none had had this effect upon her.

Wanting some time to think, she pushed upon his soul body and vaulted back, but this was met with another gust of wind, this time accompanied with fire and he beat her to the point. The talent and grace of a blade dancer was all that kept her from catching a blow across the body. The force of the attack pushed her back and interrupted her dance. The panda recovered quickly however, switching back to a more traditional kenjutsu stand and pivoting her foot to stand her ground. Adolyn was on her again and the two began to exchange strikes again. Lauré was impressed.

“Clever...” she said aloud dodging a strike before spinning in. Adolyn moved to the side, but she was ready, dancing to the left off of nimble feet and contorting her body to jump. Adolyn looked a bit shocked as she vaulted over him striking. He turned to meet her blade, just barely able to block her. She then did something surprising. She grabbed the wrist of his sword hand and then dropped suddenly to the ground. Adolyn looked off balance, trying to move with her, rather than resist as would be common. Because of this he was unable to recover when she gripped the sword and pushed back against his soul body. The sudden force caused him to lose his hold and she pulled away about five feet.

“Very good...” she complimented. Despite her praise Adolyn looked chagrin.

“Aww... don’t be like that, it was a good strategy.” added Lauré. Adolyn rolled his eyes.

“Apparently not good enough.” shrugged the lordling. Lauré smiled and began to approach.

As she spoke to him, Lauré confirmed what she had suspected; in a short time, Adolyn had figured out how the ‘God Speed’ movement of a Blade Dancer worked. Amazingly, he claimed to have felt the subtle pushes and pulls on his ethereal anchor and had begun to reach out with it. He could not push and pull upon bonds he did not create, nor did he know how to anchor his spirit body to hers. Instead, he just read the bond and used it to track her movements. He’d used the wind to create friction, slowing her, and also to steal the oxygen needed to power her flames. When she’d realized how he was keeping up with her, she had broken the link, then  drew him in, only reestablishing it when she’d gotten a hold of his sword. With more time, he’d have most likely come up with a better strategy.

“Quite a mind in that noggin...” she complimented.

Reasonably impressed she asked;

“Why do you want to squire under me? For real this time.” Adolyn looked around, his eyes betraying him. He saw something that made him immediately pretend he hadn’t seen it. She looked behind her, but all she saw was a group of the other cadets watching. There were plenty of them, so she wasn’t sure if that had any meaning. But the far away look in his eye suggested it did.

“I need to get away... some time to think.” he began.

“Away from all of this,’ Adolyn sighed, gesturing with his hand. She knew what he meant. She too was having a hard time with ‘high society’.

“So you want to go out and do something.” she mused. Adolyn nodded once and placed his hands in his pockets.

She supposed he was tired of the attention he was getting, but a glance at one of his fellow cadets hinted at something more. Never saw two people so adamant about not looking at one another. The other cadet was either a fairly handsome young girl or a very pretty young boy. She couldn’t tell from where she stood. They were something new she hadn’t seen before, perhaps one of the Palawan races. Lauré herself had known the sting of romantic entanglements, she’d left Pandorica because she didn’t want ‘wife’ to proceed any of her other accomplishments, despite the persistence of a certain pushy nobleman. She had a mind of admonishing him from running away from his problems, but Lauré supposed that he’d just be answering the call to adventure, like she had. Rolling her eyes she giggled;

“The lies we tell ourselves.”

Again she began to walk, signalling Adolyn to follow.

“Come boy, I’m sure there’s paperwork involved in all of this.” she scoffed. Adolyn said nothing and just kept in step with her. Slowly she began to swishy her tail, hitting him a few times playfully as she walked.

“I am a cruel mistress, I’ll have you know. Don’t think I’ll be any easier on you than one of this pompous windbags walking about.” She teased.

“I can imagine...” Adolyn replied, nonchalantly. As they walked, he again took her tail in his grasp, playing with it absentmindedly. She fairly cooed at the sensation. Several moments passed before she realized the boy was still talking.

“Ma’am...” he questioned. Lauré froze, looking a bit embarrassed as she had no idea what he’d said. She was thankful when he politely repeated;

“If I am to trust you with my tutelage, I would like to know your name.” Smiling, Lauré answered. Prompting him to make that same face that everyone else made before they tried to dazzle her with the etymology of her name.

“You know, most people think that name is derived from Gaulian, meaning winner. But it actually got popular in Lioncourt a long time ago because of a Princess in a story. Her name was Laurel, and she was also fond of fire. Lauré was the nickname she was given by her Gaulian lover...” he shared. Lauré peered at him, stunned.

“I’ve never heard that one.” she admitted. Adolyn beamed and asked her if she wanted to hear the legend, and for the first time that day, she actually did want to hear someone tell her about her name.